


first date

by foxmagpie



Series: little gifts [18]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmagpie/pseuds/foxmagpie
Summary: Beth goes on her first date with Peter, but all she can think about is Rio sitting fifty feet away at the bar.





	first date

**Author's Note:**

> I know all of our Brio hearts are broken after last chapter, but I appreciate all the feedback and engagement on the story! This is a much quieter chapter that was tough to write—but I'm super excited about what's coming next. :)

Peter invites Beth to Applebee’s. She has no idea how she feels about it. On the one hand, it seems decidedly friendly and casual—like it really is just catching up. On the other hand, if it _is _a date? She can’t help but see it through Rio’s perspective. He would _hate _ it. Going to a chain restaurant with a two for $20 menu? Too quotidian for him, too everyday people for his taste. 

Beth sits in the booth across from Peter and attempts to read the menu, trying to pretend like everything is normal. She feels Rio’s eyes on her even though she doesn’t see him—she has to assume he’s tailed her somehow, but she’d never seen his car. 

From her spot in a corner booth by the entrance, Beth has a good vantage point of the entire restaurant. It’s a busy Friday night—lots of older couples on dates, lots of families with kids—and Beth's head snaps up every time the door dings when a new person comes in. So far she’s been startled by a grandmother with a little boy and a trio of three twentysomethings—two blondes and a redhead—who had complained loudly and then begrudgingly agreed to sit at the bar in lieu of a twenty-minute wait. 

He’ll show up, eventually, she knows; it’s just a matter of when. He’d promised it—had acted like she needed to be checked up on. Guilt and rage swirl about inside of her. The other shoe has finally dropped, and Rio knows, now, about her failure to take care of Boomer. She knows she let him down, but hasn’t she proved that she could handle _ this? _Sitting in a restaurant and having a conversation and spinning it in her favor was nothing compared to her performance in the meetings with Fusil and Kostra. 

The fact that he’s coming here to hover over her, though—it makes her doubt whether he’d ever fully believed in her. Their fight had at least made it clear that he’d doubted her _ commitment_. She knows he’d let her try her hand at things, had even reassured her sometimes (there’s a sharp stabbing in her chest when she thinks about him rolling off her to collapse beside her in his bed and tell her, _ You're smart as fuck, Elizabeth, but sometimes your brain thinks up the dumbest shit, like that it’s okay for anyone to look at you and not see what I see_)—but how much of that had been because he truly saw something in her, and how much of it had been because he’d _ wanted _ to see something in her? Which came first, his attraction to her or his belief in her? 

“Drink orders?” 

Jolted back from her reverie, Beth looks up at the waitress and puts in an order for a lemonade. Peter orders a soda water. She tries to push away thoughts of Rio, attempting to focus on the menu and Peter’s idle chit chat about his day. 

Peter is Normal with a capital “N.” Everything about him _ screams _ polite. Well, maybe screams is too loud a verb for someone like Peter—it’s more like everything about him takes a spoon and gently taps it against a glass, asks if it might be okay to make an announcement. He's painfully average. He wears another plaid button-down with a sweater vest over it, and when Beth had arrived at the restaurant, he’d stood up and given her a quick hug. He'd remained standing until she sat herself. 

Beth should not be here. 

The cops had found out about the money, and that meant that they’d decided on a motive for Boomer’s supposed murder (god, where _ is _ he?). 

The FBI had handed back the keys to the dealership, and she had been lulled into a false sense of security. 

It had been a trap, she’d realized, when Ruby had told her about Turner showing up at hers and Stan’s church. They’d already combed through everything, had all the evidence they needed. They had copies of every document, photos of every inch of the place, test tubes of god knows what. 

They’d hoped that by letting them reopen, they’d make a misstep—give them something concrete while they tried to decipher the corner of a scrap of paper that hadn’t made it down the toilet.

Well. Now they had.

How long will it be before the evidence is compiled and organized properly? Before they show up and arrest her? 

It could be at a PTA meeting. Or carpool dropoff. Maybe at the grocery store, or the hair salon? 

Maybe even here.

But here she is anyway, in a mediocre chain restaurant on a Friday night with a high school sweetheart, discussing whether they should split some spinach and artichoke dip. Beth honestly doesn’t care at all, but Peter waffles over whether it will spoil their appetite. 

Finally, he says, “I think we should just go for it. Live a little!”

It’s an intentionally bad joke, but Beth just thinks, _ Oh, you have no idea how much living I’ve been doing_. 

“Sure,” Beth agrees, giving Peter a hollow smile she doubts he picks up on. She glances around the restaurant. She watches the waitress seat the grandmother and grandson, and she can hear the laughter of the girls at the bar as they start getting tipsy on mediocre cocktails. 

No Rio, though. 

Peter sets his menu to the side, clearly having decided what to order. 

“I’m so sorry,” Beth says, realizing she has taken far too long in her distracted state. She tries to narrow it down to anything that sounds even remotely good, but it’s not going well. The words feel a little blurry and all the pictures look deeply unappetizing. 

Beth can’t help thinking about how Rio managed to know exactly what she might enjoy at a restaurant that served food totally outside of her comfort zone. 

But they’re done. Over. Just work now, and she needs to do her job.

“No need to apologize,” Peter says, and he grins at her. He’s got a nice smile now—he must have gotten braces as an adult, or at least after high school. It’s a gentle smile, comforting even, but there’s really no comforting Beth right now. 

After the waitress writes down their orders (Beth has already forgotten what she’d picked) and takes their menus back, Beth finds herself scanning all the walls of the restaurant, covered in pictures of local youth sports teams—until she realizes that she’s being just about the worst conversationalist possible. 

“God, I’m really sorry,” Beth says, pinching her forehead. “I’m—my brain’s elsewhere, I’m sorry.” 

“Is it your divorce?” Peter asks cautiously.

Beth shakes her head quickly, reassuring him that she’s not thinking about Dean. 

“Work bringing you down?” 

_ Bit on the nose there. _

Beth takes a sip of her lemonade. “Yeah, um, it’s been a bit stressful lately." 

“What kind of work are you doing now?”

Beth’s mind goes blank. Every job that every person in the world has ever performed in the history of time is now locked away in an inaccessible part of her brain. 

That’s when he walks in. Beth hears the bell _ ding _ and turns to see him wearing his maroon button-up—unmistakable to Beth because he so often only wears black. This was the shirt he’d worn when he’d first touched her, grabbing her neck and pushing a gun under her chin. _ That emerald cut? _ But it’d also been the shirt he wore when he’d handed her the keys to the kingdom. _ I think you could be somethin’. _

Beth notices Rio take in the entire Applebees vibe. He wrinkles his brow and scoffs, but he doesn’t look at her. 

Peter just starts to turn his head, following Beth’s eyeline, when the lies comes to her just quickly enough for her social skills to seem not entirely inept: “I work in pharmaceuticals now.” 

_ Specifically in the illegal distribution thereof, but still. _

Peter turns back to her, thankfully not having noticed Rio. “Neat! That sounds like a fun job.” 

Rio lets the hostess lead him to the bar and set him up with a menu.

“It is, in its own way,” Beth answers. Before he can ask her to tell him more, she says, “Tell me about the toy shop, though.”

“Honestly? It’s pretty much the same—which I love but... It’s been dying slowly for maybe the past ten years, what with all these new gadgets and gizmos.” Beth blinks, closing her eyes for an extra second because _ gadgets and gizmos? _ Beth tunes back in at the tail end of whatever Peter was saying. “So, you know, we’re trying to figure out what to do with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Modernize or sell. I mean, how many kids are still into model trains sets anymore, you know?”

Beth thinks it would maybe entertain her kids for about 10 minutes before they would ask for the iPad. She gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“So… you’re thinking about selling?” If Peter was selling the toy store, it was a dead end. That wouldn’t be great, but Rio couldn’t fault her—

“_I _ don’t want to sell. Tim does. It’s a point of dispute.”

“Oh.”

Peter launches into the woes of working in a family business—how Tim thinks it’s smarter to get out before they dig themselves into too big of a financial hole, while Peter wants to save the business and keep his grandfather’s spirit alive. Beth listens… enough. She catches the major details. She also catches that the trio of girls have moved closer to Rio—that they’re even talking to him now. 

Beth feels her cheeks flush. _ He can do whatever he wants, _ she tries telling herself. _ It’s over. He thinks I’m here on a date. It’s fine. _

Beth hasn’t seen him look at her once, though, and she feels her chest tighten. What happens if she doesn’t get this deal? 

“I think you should try to save it,” Beth says abruptly to Peter. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a special place. You should at least _ try _ before you throw in the towel, you know?” 

The thing is, Beth _ does _ believe this. It just so happens that she _ also _ knows it could benefit her, if she plays her cards right. Beth feels a nagging doubt creep up on her, but was this really worse than anything else she had done? She’d lured other housewives into washing cash under false pretenses, agreed to rob Nancy’s spa simply because Annie had a grudge against her, let Stan take the fall in her place... 

Peter practically glows. “Thank you. It means a lot to know that it meant something to someone else, too.”

Beth smiles—and it’s genuine. “It really did. God, Annie probably considers that place a second home. It was one of her favorite places as a kid.”

“How _ is _ Annie? What’s she up to these days?”

_ Dating a federal agent in order to cover up our crimes. Selling medication she’s not equipped to dispense to a vulnerable community. _

“She’s working at Fine and Frugal, actually.” 

“Oh! Nice. Does she like it?" 

_ No. _

“Ah… it’s a job,” Beth says politely, taking another drink. “She’s had really bad luck with bosses.” 

_ Understatement. _

Peter goes with a platitude: “Well, as long as it pays the bills, right?”

_That's the whole problem: it doesn’t. _

Beth glances to the bar to see that one of the girls—the redhead—is touching Rio’s arm, laughing at something he’s said. 

Beth tears her eyes away. “How’s _ your _ family? Your parents?”

“Dad’s doing pretty good,” Peter says. “Yep, he’s retired now. Met a woman on the _ Internet _ like a modern fella. Got remarried last year and moved to Cincinnati, actually.” 

“Oh, wow,” Beth says, but there are some gaps—his parents must have gotten divorced after he’d graduated? “And your mom?” 

Peter gives her a sad smile, though. “Ah. Actually, she… she passed away about ten years ago.”

“Oh, no,” Beth says, and she reaches out a hand and places it on Peter’s wrist. “She was such a lovely woman. I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Schott had been very kind. Since Beth had tried to keep herself and Annie out of the apartment as much as possible, Mrs. Schott had taken them in, becoming one of the few adult figures 15-year-old Beth really had to look up to. Mrs. Schott had actually been the one to teach Beth how to bake. Looking back on it now, Beth realizes Mrs. Schott had probably had a pretty good inkling about the Marks girls’ home life, but she never said anything—even 25 years later, Beth is grateful.

Peter puts his opposite hand on top of Beth’s and pats it, before leaving it there and squeezing. 

“She was young,” Beth says, hesitant to grab her hand back. She glances at the bar, sees Rio see her for the first time. Rio’s eyeline drops down to their hands. He doesn’t do anything—just stares, face impassive—until his attention breaks and he turns back to the girls. Beth’s heart pounds. “Can I ask—what happened?” 

“Yeah, um. The recession hit my parents hard and, well, she had diabetes.” Peter exhales. “Money was tight. She tried rationing her insulin.”

Beth feels miserable—not just because what happened to Mrs. Schott was supremely unfair, but because a thought flashes through her head: _ Maybe this means he’ll want to help other people avoid the same fate. _

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, it’s still hard sometimes, but I try not to dwell, you know? Live in the present, appreciate what I have.” He swipes his thumb along the back of Beth's hand. 

Beth breaks eye contact. Peter’s optimism is a little draining to her, and she’s trying to figure out a way to get her hand back on her side of the table when the waitress appears. 

“Spinach and artichoke dip,” the waitress announces, glancing at their outstretched hands, which are blocking the center of the table where the dish would normally go. The moment dissipates, and Beth can breathe again. She grabs her hand back quickly, reaching to take the plate.

While Peter focuses on the food, Beth chances another look at Rio. It’s like he’s hardly even paying attention to her meeting, he’s so wrapped up in the trio of twentysomethings. Anger simmers just beneath the surface, and Beth takes her napkin off her lap.

“Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

Beth beelines for the bathroom at the back of the restaurant, shooting a look at Rio along the way. He doesn’t notice. 

Once inside, Beth places her hands on the counter and tries to catch her breath. It’s all too much: the looming Boomer threat, the anticipation of getting arrested, manipulating Peter—and the fallout with Rio. 

Hands shaking, Beth pulls out her phone and sends Rio a text.

_ Bathroom. _

She waits. 

No response. No door opening.

She tries again.

_ Hello? _

She’s itching for a fight.

_ ??? _

She’s just starting to think that she’d better get back lest Peter start to worry about her when the door swings open Rio walks into the women’s room, eyebrows wrinkled in frustration.

“What?” he asks like he doesn’t understand her.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” 

“Don’t play that game with me, mam—Elizabeth.” He licks his lips, looks away from her at the open stalls, pretending he didn’t just accidentally call her _ mama_. “You got somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Why are you even here?” Beth pushes off the counter and turns so that she’s facing him. 

“Let’s call it a performance review, yeah?”

Beth scoffs. “Yeah? While you’re sitting there _ flirting _ at the bar?” 

Rio’s jaw twitches, but then he smirks. “Ain’t you on a date right now? 'S a nice dress.” 

His eyes flit up and down her form, and a blush bursts across Beth’s chest. “No. It’s _business_.”

“Okay,” Rio says, nodding like he doesn’t believe her. “Well, then, get back to it, yeah?”

Beth scowls. “There’s no point to you being here.”

“No?” 

“Just go home. You’re not even doing anything.”

Rio smiles—sensing what's really upsetting her. “See, now, I thought I was doin’ a pretty good job.”

“Of what?”

“Keepin’ you on task.” 

“_How_?”

“You lookin’ at me almost as much as him, so somehow I get the feelin’ you ain’t forgettin’ what you’re really here for.” Rio gives her a smug look, and Beth glowers. 

_ How did he know how much she was looking at him? _

Beth opens her mouth to respond, but what’s she supposed to say to that? It’s true, isn’t it? His mere presence has him in the forefront of her mind—she’s unable to relax long enough to even have a normal conversation—to do her _ job. _

“You’re distracting me,” she tries. 

“That ain’t on me, sweetheart.” Rio steps toward her to tap her chin so she looks up at him. His touch is brief and fleeting, but still, Beth feels her cheeks burn. “Get your head on straight.”

Rio keeps his eyes on her even as he pulls open the door and exits the bathroom.

* * *

The rest of the dinner goes as well as it can, considering. 

Beth fumes silently and fakes a lot of smiles.

When Peter asks about Beth’s own parents, Beth lies—says something vague about them doing well, but living far away and not seeing them much.

If this is dating, just opening up old wounds to get to know each other? Beth wants no part of it. 

She tries to spend the rest of the meal getting Peter to talk about himself. She thinks she’ll be successful, remembering how Dean had loved to hear himself talk. It had been easy to get him to blather on about his day, or about his (often uninformed) opinions on anything under the sun. All she would have to do is nod or say, “And then what?” every once in a while.

With Peter, she asks a lot of questions, nods along emphatically, even asks follow-up questions, but no dice—Peter stops enough times to say, “And what about you?” that Beth can’t mentally check out.

Peter’s not Dean, and he’s not Rio; somehow he seems like the perfect opposite of _ both _ of them. He’s just genuinely _ kind, _ which means of course he notices that Beth is faking it, and he asks very gently if she’s alright. He asks about her divorce, and Beth pretends that that’s it, that’s the reason she’s in the wrong headspace—because _ that’s _easier to explain than the real reason, the one sitting fifty feet away. Now he’s alone with the redhead. It appears that her two blonde counterparts have slipped away without Beth noticing. 

Underneath the table, Beth unwittingly digs a nail into her knee so hard that she draws blood. She takes a napkin to it, trying to keep it hidden from Peter. 

Although Peter asks, Beth avoids saying too much about Dean. Peter nods, respecting her privacy. He tells her about his divorce instead—a case of two people who got married too quickly and settled into a life they didn’t really want together. Peter had been a loan officer at a bank back then—a job he had always hated—and after the divorce, he’d also struggled to keep up with Ann Arbor’s cost of living. When his grandfather left him the toy store, he’d quit his job the same day, feeling like he finally had a better direction. Unfortunately, moving 45 minutes away meant that he had to give up 50/50 custody of his two girls, but he had them every other weekend, and on Sundays that weren’t his, he made sure to drive over and take them out to breakfast. 

This is the one facet of conversation Beth is able to settle into with any semblance of normalcy, the one area where she feels she doesn’t have to lie her ass off: their kids. They exchange various stories, chuckling politely in camaraderie of the woes of parenthood, and Beth almost starts to enjoy herself. 

* * *

Peter walks Beth back to her car in the darkened parking lot. Rio’s around somewhere, presumably—he’d left just when Peter had asked for the check—but Beth isn’t convinced that he’d just disappeared entirely. 

The redhead had been left alone at the bar, looking annoyed and texting something furiously on her phone. Beth had breathed some sigh of relief, then gotten mad at herself for doing so because _ they weren’t together _ and, she reminded herself, she didn’t _ want _ to be together. Well, she didn’t want to _ want _to be together. 

Seeing him tonight, when things weren’t so _ fresh _as they were last night? It had been hard. She’d wanted to yell at him, to have him snap at her, for both of them to just let go of all of the things that were holding them back and come together—but it was impossible. 

She just can’t be with someone again that doesn’t _ see _ her. 

Ruby had been right:_ Don’t let these men make you feel powerful—that gives them the power to take it away. _

“I’m really glad I bumped into you,” Peter says, turning to face her as she leans against her driver’s door.

“Yeah, me too,” Beth says softly. 

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

“Me too,” Beth says, and it’s only half-true—but that has less to do with him and more to do with her. 

Peter smiles, and Beth smiles back, and there’s this moment that’s almost electric. A moment where she thinks _ maybe I should, maybe it’s right_, and then he’s leaning towards her, and she thinks it could be nice—but her body reacts for her and she turns at the last second so that his lips bump into her cheek.

Peter pulls away, and Beth puts her hand to her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“Beth,” Peter says, reaching out and putting a hand on her wrist. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I just—I should’ve been clearer about my intentions and—”

“No,” Beth says in a rush. “No, it’s not—I had an inkling, and I even—I even thought maybe I wanted—” 

“I get it.” 

“You do?” Beth exhales. 

“Yeah, dating after divorce is hard. God, my first several dates were _ disasters_. I even noticed you seemed kind of out of it earlier, but it seemed like maybe it got better, and I just misinterpreted—it’s on me. _ I’m _sorry.”

Beth gives him a sad smile. “I’m still sorry. Can we—can we be friends?”

“Of course,” Peter says, nodding. “I’d like that.”

Beth nods, and they part with a hug, but she starts crying as soon as she’s left alone in her car.

She wonders how much, if any, Rio saw of that.

* * *

“What’s up with Gang Friend?” Annie asks the next day when they’re all trying to wash cash—in much smaller amounts—at Target. They’re each only spending $1,000—high enough to just _ barely _be worth their while. Beth’s throwing in some real items, too—some items that won’t be returned—to be less suspicious. “He was a total dick last night.”

Beth thumbs a robe and asks, “You saw him? When?”

“B, you already have a robe exactly like that,” Ruby says, rolling her eyes.

“Not exactly. Mine’s red, this is blue.”

Ruby raises an eyebrow, and Annie says, “I dunno, I saw him around ten-ish? Why?”

Beth lets out a breath, dropping the sleeve of the robe. He must have gone straight from Applebees to meet up with Annie. She starts moving her cart down the aisle so that the girls will be behind her and she won’t have to look at them. 

“I guess now’s a good time to tell you we ended things.” Beth pretends to look at a bra, even though there’s nothing at Target that would be even remotely close to her size.

Behind her, Annie and Ruby exchange glances. “You did? Last night?”

“No… about a week ago, I guess.”

Technically, maybe, it had only been two days ago, but she had _ known. _ She had known when she left his apartment, and she had known when he stopped picking up the phone. She knew _ before _ he told her she was just work, but that hadn’t made the comment sting any less—it was like she’d been in one box, and suddenly she was in another, and he didn’t even _ need _ an adjustment period. 

“I’m sorry, B,” Ruby says, and Beth feels a flash of irritation that she doesn’t even sound surprised.

“‘You guess’?” Annie asks gently. “What happened?”

God, how could she even _ describe _ it, this implosion between them? 

“Dean happened, and Rio happened, and I happened, and Boomer happened,” Beth says, feeling claustrophobic. She turns her cart to get out of the lingerie section. “Just a lot of stuff caught up with us. I’m fine, though.” 

Annie bites her lip, contemplating asking follow-up questions, but Ruby shakes her head. 

Beth turns around, looks at the two of them. “I’m _ fine. _”

“Okay,” Ruby says, agreeing too quickly, pretending to believe her.

“Well, who did it? Because homeboy seemed all sorts of pissed off—”

“_Annie_,” Ruby grits through her teeth. 

Beth calls over an employee and points to an Apple Watch. “I’d like one, please.”

“Which one?”

“Oh, whichever one’s newest or has the most storage or whatever,” she says, shrugging. _ Basically, whichever one is the most expensive. _

“Color?” 

“Surprise me.”

The employee unlocks the case and pulls one out for Beth, and Annie interjects, “Yeah, one for me, too.” 

The employee furrows her brow at Annie’s impulsivity, but she grabs another box before shuffling away, answering some questions on her walkie talkie. 

“Did you see him last night or something?” Annie asks. “Like, are you two still working together?”

“Yes.” 

“You _ are_?” Ruby shakes her head, unable to keep her judgment in. 

“Yes. It’s still my _ job_,” Beth hisses. “Dean’s out of the house now and I have bills to pay—and might I remind you I have zero work experience?”

“Girl, do you _ want _ to do this?” 

Beth pushes her cart further down the aisle and waves another employee over, a different one this time. “Can I get an XBox?”

The employee nods and unlocks another case, and Beth plops it into the basket. Before the employee disappears Ruby points to a $499 TV and says, “I’d like that TV, actually.” 

The employee loads them up, and Beth hopes that they’ve forgotten about the conversation, but of course they haven’t.

“B?”

“Yes, I want to do it,” Beth snaps. 

“Then why are you so agitated?’ Ruby challenges.

Annie tilts her head like, _ She has a point. _

“Because I’m not sure—I’m not sure I want to be doing what I’m doing at this exact moment. _ This_,” Beth points her head to their carts, “is fine. Drops are fine. But right now I’m trying to get Peter Schott to let us use his toy store for, you know—” she drops her voice to a whisper. “_Smuggling. _”

“Pete Schott?” Annie asks, shocked, while Ruby asks, “Who the hell is that?” 

“He was before your time,” Annie explains. “Beth’s first boyfriend.”

“Oooh,” Ruby says, and it clicks in her head. She’d never met him, but she knows _ of _ him—he just hasn’t come up for about twenty years. “How’d he get wrapped up in this?” 

Beth doesn’t really feel like rehashing the whole thing, so she gives them a two-line summary: “Ran into him with Rio—_ before_. We agreed he’s a good angle.” 

It’s a lie, they hadn’t agreed, but Beth doesn’t want to get into it. 

“I can’t believe it,” Annie says, trying to wiggle a boxed high chair off the shelf and into her cart. Exasperated, Ruby tries to help her. “Little Pete Schott.” 

“Peter now,” Beth corrects. 

“Pete just seems to fit him more, you know? He had that whole dweeby vibe. Is he still into model trains?” 

“Don’t make fun,” Beth says, eyeing the toy section behind them. “If I remember correctly, you liked the model trains, too.”

“_I _was six. Pete? He was sixteen. It’s different.”

Ruby makes a face. “Yikes. Yeah, it is.”

They trail their carts from the electronics section to the camping section. Beth eyes some water coolers—not for washing cash, just for herself. Soccer season is coming up soon, and it would be good to be able to bring more cold drinks and snacks for the kids. 

“Does he still like them? Trains?”

“I don’t know,” Beth says, annoyed. She grabs a cooler—and the most expensive air mattress Target has available. 

“So, like, what’s your angle? How are you going to get him to work with you guys?”

“I don’t know,” Beth admits. “We went out last night, and I got some good intel but—I feel just… I don’t know. Confused.”

“You went out? Like on a date?” Annie asks.

“Sort of—not really.” 

“‘Sort of’?” Ruby repeats. 

“Did he try to kiss you?” Annie asks. Beth bites her lip, and Annie whoops a little bit. “He so did! Look at you, woman on the prowl.” 

“Stop.”

“Do you like him?” Ruby asks.

“I don’t know!” Beth says, flustered. “It’s too soon, and Rio was there and I was flustered and—”

“Rio was _ there_?” Annie asks, eyes widening. “Oh my god.”

“He was there on business,” Beth says defensively, even though she herself had been equally incredulous about it. “He’s mad about Boomer, and he was just… making sure.” 

“Puh-lease,” Annie says. “Gang Friend was most definitely jealous.”

Beth feels her cheeks get hot, and she crouches to look at something on the bottom shelf, just to hide her face.

“I don’t think so.” She thinks of the redhead. Sure, he didn’t go home with her—but she’d been more interesting to him than watching Beth on her date. That meant something, right?

“Beth, you should have seen him last night—he was _ pissed_.” 

“Did he do anything?” Beth asks quickly. Now that he and Beth aren’t—she stops herself. She knows him. She knows he wouldn’t hurt Annie. 

“No, he was just all twitchy and agitated. And he snapped at me when I told him we lost a client. I mean, it’s not like he’s normally Mr. Nice Guy, but this was… different. I mean, usually he just likes to pull a gun out, right? Instead, it was just like, I dunno, he wanted to crawl out of his skin or something.”

Beth nods, absorbing this information. 

“Beth?” Ruby interjects. “Are you going to go out with Peter again?”

“I don’t know. He’s really great—just so sweet, and earnest, and _ open_—it’s nice.” Beth waffles. “But, you know, I don’t know if that’s me anymore.” 

Ruby touches her arm. “Beth, you can be whatever you want to be. You’re not locked into anything for life. You can quit.”

“I don’t want to—” 

“_Now,” _Ruby reminds her. “You don’t want to quit _now_. But maybe you need some nice and some normal for a minute. Not Dean, not Rio. Just a regular person, who treats you good?”

“Maybe,” Beth says. “But how can I have that, when I’m trying to get him to—?”

“You could just be honest with him,” Annie whispers. “I mean, it’s not like we’re smuggling in heroin or like, cocaine or something. They’re good drugs, you know. They’re just… illegal.”

Beth rubs at a tension headache that’s forming.

“All I’m saying is you don’t have to dupe the guy just to make a business deal. I think you can still date him for real, _ if _ that’s what you really want.”

“I vote you give him another shot. Just see where it takes you. Rio was… he was _ something_,” Ruby says, giving Beth some wiggle room to define whatever Rio was. “But I don’t know. Sweet? Earnest? Open? Those are _ good _ words. I think you should pursue it.”

Beth shrugs, not convinced.

“Annie?” Ruby asks, turning around to look at her. “What do you think?”

“Me?” Annie says, pointing to herself. She shifts her weight. “I think… yeah. It makes sense.”

“That’s all you have to say on the matter?”

“I think it just depends,” Annie says a little guiltily, like she knows she should be agreeing with Ruby. “Like, yes. I think you _ should _ be with a guy that’s nice and that, like, isn’t the leader of a violent criminal gang. But like… do _ you_?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—you were, like, pretty into this thing you had going with Rio. Like, you seemed really happy and—” Ruby sighs, but Annie continues, “—and I know it wasn’t easy, and I’m not even really endorsing it—it’s just. If that’s what you _ want_, then don’t go for Peter. If Peter’s just a substitute then—” 

“I know,” Beth says, putting a hand on Annie’s shoulder and looking at her sadly. Having been the substitute in one too many relationships, Beth knows Annie is speaking from experience.

“So, what do you want?” Ruby asks.

Beth bites her lip. Honestly, what she wants is _ time. _ Time to process, time to get her ducks in a row before she’s arrested, time to figure out what it is that she wants.

But can she have it?

* * *

Beth spends the next morning anxiously cleaning the house while the kids run around screaming and playing. 

She figures that Rio will be dropping by at some point to debrief her meeting with Peter, and she assumes that he might be over phone calls and text messages now. No, she’ll just look up and he’ll be on the picnic table, she’s sure of it. 

Beth purges. She finds blouses that are too snug, shoes that she never wears, trinkets of Dean’s that have no place in her life anymore—and she dumps them all into boxes for donation. She goes through the garage, through stuff she hasn’t even looked at in years. She replaces the art that’s been hanging on the kitchen cabinets for something more recent, carefully tucks the old into the kids' file in the office.

She keeps looking out of windows and checking the backyard, but there’s nothing out there.

Beth cleans until she’s exhausted. 

She prepares an elaborate lunch. She has a glass of bourbon. She works on the scarf she’s knitting for Sara. 

When there’s nothing left to do, Beth rounds up the kids into the van, and she’s there before she even realizes where she’s going.

The kids immediately scatter once inside—Emma goes for the dollhouse, Jane for the hot wheels display, both boys for the Legos. 

Peter wears just a button-up (no sweater vest this time). His sleeves are rolled up, and his forearms look nice as he leans against them on the glass counter in front of the register. 

“Hi,” he says softly after Beth wanders over to him. 

“Hi.” 

Peter grins at her, but he doesn’t say anything more. He just waits.

“So, um, I was thinking…” Beth turns over her shoulder and looks at her kids. 

“Mom? Can I get this?” Kenny asks, holding up some box of a Star Wars Lego replica. 

“No—”

“If he gets that then I want—”

“Nobody’s getting anything right now—”

“But I _ want _—”

Beth fixes them with a stare that they know means it’s better to just give up. They all sulk back to their respective areas.

“You were saying?” Peter asks, couching his chin in his palm, amused.

“I’m not ready to date,” Beth blurts. Peter barely reacts, completely unruffled. Beth tucks her hair behind her ear, recomposing herself. “But… I do think I’d like to spend time with you. Until I am. I mean—if you wanted, that is, but—”

“I’d like that,” Peter says. And then he smiles at her in a way that eases the knots in her stomach—even if it lasts just for a minute. 


End file.
